


Feathers

by spookybucky



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-05-03
Updated: 2018-05-07
Packaged: 2019-05-01 18:47:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 4
Words: 7,197
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14526861
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spookybucky/pseuds/spookybucky
Summary: The soldier found a feather, gleaming like gold. And then he found another. And another.





	1. Dead?

**Author's Note:**

> Hello, helloooo. This is my first work on this site and also the first thing I've written in years and also the first Stucky I've ever written so I'm a little rusty but I had this idea for so long and I just HAD to get it out there somehow. It was maybe slightly a little bit inspired by R.I.P.D. Fight me. Sooo yeah. Here it is. I hope you enjoy? Feedback is always welcome! Thanks for clicking on this, hope it's not too disappointing aha. -Spooky Bucky x

"Wait, hold on, I'm... I'm dead?" Steve whispered in disbelief. This had to be a dream, right?  
"I'm afraid so darling." Came a gentle voice from across the table. Steve's head shot up, he knew that voice anywhere.  
"Peggy?"  
"Hello, sweetheart. It's been a while." She smiled softly, her immaculate red lips just as Steve remembered them being. She cocked her head a little to the side, perfect brunette curls cascading down her shoulder.  
They sat in a completely white room with no windows and no other obvious light source and yet the room was well lit, the sheer whiteness of it all just adding to it. The desk, also white, contained a stack of forms, an old typewriter and telephone as well as some pencils and a very official looking stamp. Steve looked around the room, just taking every thing in. He noticed a potted plant in the back right corner behind him next to some comfy looking white chairs. Behind Peggy was a door with a big, golden handle (this, Steve noted, was the most interesting thing in the room).  
"Yeah. I suppose it has. Um, how are you?"  
Peggy let out a soft laugh. "You haven't changed a bit, Captain. Not at all. I suppose, all things considered, I'm quite well. But I can't say that it's nice to see you..." She frowned.  
Oh yeah, dead...  
They sat in silence for a while. Steve looked down in his lap, trying to recall everything that happened leading up to this moment, but only drawing a blank. One minute he was out in the field, side by side with agent Romanoff, next thing he knew, Peggy was telling him he had died.  
Somewhere, a clock was ticking, like thick molasses time droned on by, almost like it was taunting him. The clink of fine china in front of him caught his attention. He looked back up at Peggy, whose gaze was resting on him, soft but knowing, as she took a dainty sip from her teacup. Another cup sat next to him on the desk. Steve wasn't brave enough to ask where it came from, but he gratefully sipped the hot, amber liquid.

"How... how did this happen?" He eventually asked, voice shaking as he fought back tears.  
Peggy sighed once more, picking up the beige folder beside her. On the front of it was a white label. STEVEN GRANT ROGERS, the red letters screamed at her. With a perfectly manicured red fingernail, she flipped open the file and began to read.  
"It says here that you succumbed to a to a shot through the heart via your back. Agent Romanoff tried to push you out of the way but didn't make it in time. You never saw it coming. Medical never made it in time, but I doubt a lot could have been done. I'm so sorry, Steven." Her voice was calm and collected, but her eyes gave away her inner pain.  
More time in silence passed, waiting for Steve to process hearing about his own death. Again. He thought he died in the ocean when the plane went down. He read all the newspaper articles about it. But this, his real death, was much harder. 

"Wow." He whispered after several minutes had passed. "That's... Wow."  
"It's always a shock. You seem to be taking it well. Most men would have cried like a baby by now." She smirked.  
Steve laughed, typical Peggy. "So, this is your job, huh? Processing.. . dead people?"  
"Pretty much. But it's not all bad. It's quite nice to be useful and back on the job again. I'm used to office work, I suppose."  
They both chuckled at this little inside joke. Steve might have missed it, but he knew all about Peggy's job at the SSR.  
"So, what happens now? Is this it?"  
The agent's eyes twinkled. "Now? Now you have a choice to make."  
Steve leaned back in his seat. "A choice, huh?"  
Peggy nodded slowly, picking up another file and a pencil. "You have two options, Captain. Get back in the field, or pass over."  
"I don't understand.."  
"It's very simple. There's people on earth who need help staying alive until it's their time to go. They need protecting and it's our job to protect them. You will be assigned a living person to protect, be sent back down to earth as their Guardian and make sure they don't accidentally or otherwise die." Peggy paused, giving Steve a minute to think about what she said. "Alternatively, you can pass on. Rest and be at peace forever. It's your choice."

Steve furrowed his brow. This is crazy, he thought. A guardian angel?  
"Sure, I'll go for the first option." He smiled after a few more moments of thought.  
"That's my Steven," Peggy laughed "I never doubted for a second that you wouldn't."  
She quickly filled in some forms, a signature here, a tick there before passing the form to Steve to read and sign. It wasn't much, just a documentation stating he would do everything in his power to protect his assigned mortal, make sure he stays out of sight and out of the way until the job is complete, basic agreements. Once the final signature was scrawled on the dotted line, Peggy slipped the forms into a brown envelope, sealed it with scarlet red wax and posted it through a slot in the desk.

"Perfect, follow me." She stood smartly, pulling down the dark brown skirt of her uniform before opening the door behind her. She stepped through the door way, Steve following behind her like a lost puppy into a long corridor with dark wood floors and a length of red carpet draped down the middle. Great golden chandeliers hung from the ceiling and occasionally they would pass by a door, hearing snippets of conversation, most likely recently deceased people going through the same process Steve had just gone through not five minutes before. They walked down the corridor together, Steve asking questions about Peggy's job, which she answered as best she could, if only to humour him.  
Eventually they reached a giant set of double doors. Peggy flung them open and Steve stared wide eyed and jaw dropped at the sight before him.  
Rows and rows of people at desks, typing away on their typewriters, answering phones... It was such a typical office setting. Behind them all, on the very back wall was what can only be described as a portal. It was ginormous, easily 20 ft tall, glowing with gold and silver light, two marble columns stood at either side of it. Beside the portal was a very complex looking machine, covered in buttons and levers that Steve couldn't even begin to understand.  
"Welcome to the Guardian Depot!" Peggy exclaimed, breaking Steve's trance.  
Peggy started to walk into the depot, her kitten heels clicking on the white tiled floor. Steve hesitated before following her once more, breaking into a jog to keep up with her. Peggy quickly sauntered over to an oak desk, stopping to say hello to other workers and ask for updates on... Well, Steve wasn't exactly quite sure what she was talking about, really, but it seemed very important to her.

"Right!" She grinned, sitting down at the desk and turning on the computer like machine in front of her. "Since you have a rather special set of skills, I'm assigning you to a very important case. A dire case. So don't you bloody dare mess this up." Steve swallowed and nodded, his eyes fixed on her fingers as they flew across the keyboard. "We've had a lot of problems with this case, but I trust you, more than anyone." Concern dripped down her face. Whoever this case was, Steve wasn't sure he was up to standard.  
"Pushing me straight into the big leagues, huh? Don't want to put me on a smaller case first? Show me the ropes?"  
With a sigh, Peggy closed her eyes. "I would love to. I really would. But we simply don't have time." She opened her eyes again and smiled softly, her brows furrowed."But you, Steven, are Captain America. Greatest soldier the world has ever, and will ever, see. I believe in you."  
Steve let out a sigh of his own. "Alright. Let's do this then."  
"Excellent." Peggy beamed, pressing one final button. "Right this way then, darling."  
They walked together once more, but this time further back into the room, towards the portal, where another person stood at the complex machine beside it.  
"Captain, this is Agent Williams. She's in charge of making sure you get back to earth safely."  
Agent Williams smiled. "Wow, I can't believe I'm finally meeting Captain America! I'm sorry it's under these circumstances."  
"It's good to meet you too, ma'am. I trust you to make sure I don't end up getting lost and find myself in space somewhere!" Steve shot her a toothy grin back.  
The agent replied with a laugh. "Don't worry, I'm good at my job! No one's gotten lost in space yet."  
Peggy handed Agent Williams a file. "This is Captain Rogers' case report. Special assignment." Williams read the file quickly, her eyes widening.  
"Agent Carter? Are you sure about this? You know what happened with the last Guardian we sent to--"  
Peggy raised her hand. "Trust me. If anyone can handle this case, its Steven."  
"Alright, Peg. If you say so." Williams gestured towards the portal. "Hop in, Cap! I'm gonna set the co-ordinates, don't worry, this won't hurt, but be careful when you land, okay?"  
Steve shot her a side glance, He'd figure it out, he guessed. "Wait, hang on. I don't know anything about my case. Is there nothing you can tell me?"  
A small smile creeped upon Peggy's face as her eyes glinted mischievously. She leaned in closer to her, a loud whirring noise filled the air, a white light beginning to flood his vision.  
"I can tell you their name." She whispered in the captain's ear. "It's James. James Barnes."  
With a slow kiss to his cheek, the light completely blinded him and suddenly.  
Nothingness.


	2. James.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNING: CONTAINS DESCRIPTION OF A SHOOTING. PLEASE BE CAUTIOUS. -Spooky

Upon opening his eyes, Steve made four observations:  
1\. He was back on earth.  
2\. New York, to be precise.  
3\. No one seemed to be able to see hi, or at the very least, notice his presence.  
4\. He had wings.  
Great big, fluffy white wings with feathers that gleamed a pale gold under the hot summer sun. If he wanted to, he could easily wrap them fully around his body, he noticed, as the feathers drooped downwards, almost brushing against the filthy concrete beneath his feet. One more observation he made was that he was still kitted out in his Captain America uniform, sans helmet, a small comfort of familiarity. Thankfully, he couldn't see the hole where the fatal bullet impacted and sailed right through him.  
Steve took in a deep breath and remembered Peggy's parting words to him. James Barnes? There's no way she could possibly mean...  
He shook his head. No, it's just a coincidence. It's a pretty common name after all. 

Unsure of what to do next, Steve wished there was a way he could contact Peggy, not for the first time in his life. She would know what to do. He supposed the best thing he should do now was to find this James person, the most logical conclusion he could come up with. Steve only wished he knew what he was looking for. There was so many people in New York, James could literally be any of them.  
Hesitantly, he took a step forward. Then another and another until eventually he was walking confidently in a direction seemingly made by some kind of universal pull of fate (he hoped). As he walked towards his unknown destination, Steve began to ponder his surroundings. He knew this area so well, every door, window and back alley was like his own home; he could find his way blind. But it seemed different now, like he was looking at everything with new eyes. The whole situation was made even stranger by the fact that no one could see him. Steve was so used to people staring wide eyed and whispering, coming up to him for autographs, little kids pulling on his sleeve asking to hold his shield or tell them a story, girls giggling and swooning with their friends, tired older folks sparing him a knowing and thankful nod and smile... But now he was invisible. The world was different. _'Different denotes neither bad nor good, but it certainly means not the same.'_ He though to himself.  
Suddenly, from the corner of his eye, he noticed a newspaper stand. He'd bought a paper at this stand many times, this time, however, his blood ran cold and he came to a complete paused, paralysed from sorrow.  
_'CAPTAIN AMERICA - DEAD. WORLD MOURNS THE GREATEST SOLDIER IN HISTORY.'_ The headline read. As Steve approached the stand, he noticed every paper had something similar to say. He didn't think he would ever get used to hearing about his death. They all showed the same images - His lifeless body, Natasha screaming for backup and help, a picture of his smiling face before he went down in the ice. He couldn't accurately begin to describe this strange feeling that took over his body. This still all felt like a dream. Like he would wake up in the morning, safe in his bed in his Brooklyn apartment. He would get up, feed the stray cat at his kitchen window, go for a run, grab a smoothie, wait for a call to the field and do it all again tomorrow. Not this time. No, this was very much real. He was dead. And now he had another job to do. A woman sobbing quietly caught his attention. He turned around and watched her clutch a paper, tears dripping off her chin and onto the article that rested in her shaking hands. Steve recognised her - he had saved her and her daughter from a fire in her apartment block less than a month ago. His heart broke at the thought of all the people mourning his death. He wanted to comfort her, put his arm around her shoulder and let her know that things were okay, that he was here, but he knew he couldn't. She wouldn't see him and presumably not feel his touch or hear his words. Peggy had warned him to keep out of the way of people as much as possible or there would be dire consequences. He had one job to do, one person to protect and that was it. She was very clear that he mustn't stray from this mission. And so he turned back around, shoulders slumping in defeat, a heavy frown etched on his face, silently promising her that even though we was gone, the other Avengers were out there. They would keep this world safe, no matter how big or small the act, someone was there for her. Steve must have been walking for about half an hour before he came across a large, very generic building. He looked up at the boring, grey skyscraper before him. There was nothing special about it, it looked like any other New York office building, but something about it gave him a weird... vibe. It needed investigating, he decided, pushing open the heavy glass door at the front. The doors opened up into a lobby that didn't stand out too much. In front of him stood a red and white reception desk where a smartly dressed blonde woman sat, loudly chewing her gum whilst texting and ignoring the ringing phones around her. Before her was a computer, dinging with incoming emails. She didn't seem too concerned with them. To his left were three elevators and a pigeon hole post station. To his right, a waiting area. Grey couches filled with fed up people in suits lined the walls, in the middle of them was a coffee table covered in old magazines, half dead potted plants filled each corner. A television hung from the top left corner of the waiting area, some kind of news channel played, he watched the weatherman report this week's weather, _'Looks like there's no rain this week'_ Steve thought to himself _'Tony will be glad of that.'_ The television was silent, but the radio overhead played the latest pop songs that Steve never had a chance to catch up on. He liked the beat. Steve looked down at the light grey carpet and wondered what the hell he was doing here. Since he couldn't ask the receptionist, he doubted she would want to talk to him if she could, he decided to take the elevator up. He sauntered casually over to the elevator, before he had the chance to press the button to call the lift, an almighty crash filled the air. Several people screamed and suddenly Steve knew he was in the right place. He quickly turned just as the gunfire started, the receptionist's body was slumped over her desk, blood pouring from her chest and forehead. About 20 men all dressed head to toe in black tactical gear spilled through the kicked in door, glass crunching beneath their heavy boots, guns of all kinds in their hands. Once they had all the people in the waiting area on their knees with their hands behind their heads, one final man walked in and Steve's whole world seemed to run in slow motion. This mysterious newcomer had his entire face covered, the lower half behind a black mask, his eyes protected by dark black goggles. His tactical gear was slightly different from the rest of them, he wore a leather jacket with several straps crossing his torso and his hair was long enough to brush his shoulders. And then Steve noticed his arm, made entirely of metal, glinting in the sunlight, a single red star on his shoulder. And that was when he knew that this was _him_.

 _'This?! This is who Peggy sent me to protect?!'_ He thought to himself. This couldn't be right, but deep down, Steve knew it was. The vibe he was getting from this man was almost indescribable. He felt so drawn to him, like his whole body was trying to reach out to him, it had to be James. Had to be.  
Steve was shocked out of his thoughts by the man he decided was James shooting one of the men being held hostage clean between the eyes. Anger flowed through him. He did NOT want to protect this man, he was a killer! He just shot this man with no hesitation and didn't look even remotely sorry about it. In fact, Steve observed, he didn't seem to feel anything. He was like a machine awaiting input, standing completely still, looking dead ahead, not saying a word.  
One of the men removed the balaclava covering his face and Steve's jaw dropped. He knew this man. His name was Agent Rumlow, Steve had worked closely with him on many missions over the years and considered him to be a friend. But these men were not SHIELD, not by any means.  
_'So what the hell is he doing here, shooting up a building?'_  
Agent Rumlow yelled something to James and Steve really wished he had paid more attention to Natasha's Russian lessons. Before Steve had anymore time to dwell on this thought, James nodded, lifting his rifle slightly and spraying bullets into the remaining hostages. Steve squeezed his eyes shut, he didn't know what he could have done. His job was to protect James and no one else, even if he wanted nothing more than to stop this massacre. He really, really didn't want to protect him now, but Peggy seemed to think he was worth saving, specifically by Steve. He hated questioning her judgement and hoped there was a small chance that this feeling was wrong, that this man wasn't James.

A shrill beeping alerted the attention of the room and Steve knew that sound anywhere.  
Bomb.  
Before he could even blink, he dived on the man he hoped only in this moment was James and pulled him into his arms, wrapping his feathers around the warm, leather clad body pressed tightly against his. He pressed his eyes shut as tightly as he could one more time, listening to the footsteps running out of the building, the desperate shouts of the murderous men who stormed the lobby and finally, the thunderous _BOOM!_ of the bomb finally detonating.  
He could feel the walls and ceiling falling down around him more than he could hear it, his ears too preoccupied by the heavy breathing of the man in his arms.  
After what felt like forever, the crumbling had more or less subsided and the thick smoke passing in the breeze. He opened his eyes just in time to see police cars and fire engines screech to a halt in front of the shattered remains of the office block. He was briefly aware of the body slipping gracefully out of his grip and off into the shadows, but he couldn't bring himself to care. Steve's mind was racing with everything that just happened and nothing made sense. Looking around, he saw that Brock Rumlow had made it out alive, one of the lucky few that did. He felt numb to the world, his feet walking while his mind was in another world, stuck in a loop of the last few hours and everything that happened, trying to pick out all the little details to piece together the puzzle but nothing was coming of it. Steve put it all down to shock, that his mind was overloaded and he just needed to slow down and take everything apart.  
_'Starting with why Rumlow was there and what the hell he was doing.'_ He growled to himself.

 _"Well done, Captain Rogers."_  
Steve's eyes flew open. Peggy?  
_"It's alright, Steven. I'm speaking to you telepathically. You did a good job back there, he target was protected. I'm sorry I couldn't give you any more information."_  
So he was right, that was James.  
_"Head back to your apartment,"_ Peggy continued, oblivious to his internal strife. _"We've got it protected and hidden. Get some sleep, please. And when you're rested, and I mean it, get some bloody rest, just call me. We'll collect you for a mission report and evaluation before sending you back into the field."_  
Steve sighed. She was right, he needed some sleep. Today was the strangest day of his life and all he wanted was some peace and quiet. He mentally thanked Peggy for protecting his apartment, nothing was more relaxing than his own bed. Steve blinked and looked up, suddenly he was back in his room. For some reason that wasn't the weirdest thing that had happened to him today and so he just accepted his new found power of teleportation, climbed into bed, not even bothering to strip off his uniform and fell asleep in no time at all.


	3. The First of Many.

It was some time after the incident at the office block, where all their long worked plans went quite literally up in smoke and out of the window that the soldier was given the order to return to the scene and collect what he was initially sent to collect.  
_Let it be known that he NEVER fails a mission._  
And so it was, after being dropped off roughly half a mile away to avoid suspicion and in the dead of night, where the cover of darkness would hide him from even the most trained eye, the soldier slunk back into the no longer burning rubble like a cat, silent, quick and deadly.  
As he began his climb up what little remained of the stairs, something caught the corner of his eye. It shimmered like golden moonlight under a chunk of plaster and called to him like a siren's song. He knew he shouldn't stray from his mission, but this felt important. He needed to know what this was. With his glove glad metal hand, he quietly moved the plaster off of the glittering object before picking it up as delicately as he could.  
It was a feather, he observed. But no ordinary feather, for it shone under the moon and streetlights like it was made of real gold. With his flesh hand, he gingerly stroked the feathers and found it to be softer than anything he had ever felt, not that he had much to go on, being mainly accustomed to hard steel, leather and concrete.  
Something deep inside told him to keep the feather. It was pretty and made him feel warmer than he had ever remembered feeling. He knew he would get in trouble for taking and keeping it, but he didn't care, he'd keep it safe and hidden. He wanted this feather more than anything.  
The soldier tucked the feather as carefully as he could into his right boot and continued to ascend up the stairs, swinging around fallen metal poles and climbing over sections of crumbled wall when suddenly, he paused.  
He had just realised that he had an independent thought.  
He made a _choice_. He _chose_ to keep the feather.  
And then he realised he was still thinking with his own will. He was realising.  
_'No, no, no. This isn't right. I'm malfunctioning. Need to report this.'_  
The soldier shook his head vigorously and once more, continued his climb upwards. The mission was the only thing important right now. It was the only thing that mattered and he must NOT get distracted. 

Eventually he reached the top floor offices. His handler had informed him that the necessary disk was located in the main manager's office. He didn't know what was on the disk, only that it was of great urgency and it must not get into the wrong hands, but he didn't need to know. His job was only to retrieve it and that was what he was trained to do.  
He had the entire floor plan of the building completely memorised, finding the main office was not problem for him. A walk up the corridor here, a turn there and he was in. Despite the complete blackout, he could see exactly where he was going, just like he was trained. Programmed.  
The soldier came across a set of doors and knew he was in exactly the right place. He kicked the doors in, they succumbed easily to his heavy boots, and entered the office.  
It didn't seem too badly effected by the blasts (which, his handler informed him, were security measures set in place to make sure this disk wasn't stolen. _"Yeah, fat lot of good that did them."_ He had scoffed. The soldier didn't really understand.) but it was still easy to tell there had been an explosion in the room.  
The roof was half caved in, the desk lay in several pieces, a thick carpet of paper and ashes lay strewn across the floor, glass and splinters of wood from photo frames embedded into the remains of the walls.  
A stray drawer lay face down on the ground in the corner. The soldier flipped it over to reveal a small, square envelope containing a disk, thankfully still in tact. He picked up the disk and shoved it into the pocket of his tactical belt, pressing the activation button on his ear piece.  
"Миссия завершена. Возвращение на базу."  
_"Yeah, yeah. Just hurry up. Boss wants that disk pronto."_ Came the irate, tinny voice of his handler.  
The soldier didn't feel the need to reply, it would only delay him further.

 

When he had returned to the base, the soldier was allowed a minute to check on the new recruits while his handler and the boss went over the content on the disk in a room he wasn't allowed in, for whatever reason.  
He removed his mask and goggles before entering the training rooms where the recruits were all practising hand to hand combat, one of them clearly surpassing them all.  
_'She's done this before.'_ He thought, mildly impressed by her skills.  
The woman had fiery red hair, a jet black, skin tight suit and although she was short in stature, she was fierce. Her face showed no emotion, her body completely relaxed and movements noiseless as she put every ounce of energy into pummelling the training dummy.  
The soldier watched her as though in a trance. She had skills to surpass even himself and reminded him of something not unlike a spider. Several minutes passed before she noticed him watching her. She stopped immediately, hands clenched into fists, feet apart, _typical fighting stance_ and while her face continued to show no emotion, her eyes gleamed with something...  
_'Fear? Sadness? No, she doesn't have time for that. I can't read her.'_  
As she stared at him, he noticed her breathing was shallow, yet ragged. His mind began to race, there was something about this woman. She looked like the perfect killer but she was having serious trouble hiding some kind of emotion.  
Before he had any more time to ponder or question her, heavy hands gripped tight at his arms. He knew what was coming, struggling meant nothing. And so he let himself be dragged away, not once breaking eye contact with the red head, the pain in her eyes growing more intense as he was dragged further and further away until eventually the doors slammed shut and she was gone.  
He didn't want her to go.

He hated the chair.  
Even though he wasn't supposed to feel such trivial things like hatred and pain, he still hated it.   
He hated the pain it brought him, hated having his memories wiped, hated never knowing he was, hated having to start himself again after every mission.   
But more than this, he was scared. He was scared of the pain, of being stripped and strapped down, scared of the rubber in his mouth he bit down on to muffle his pained and scared screams, like a rabbit in a trap. He was scared he was going to forget the spider woman.   
As the handler tightened the straps over his chest, the cool leather of the chair pressing into his back and the cold bite of steel on his chest, he couldn't breathe. It hurt, everything hurt. He felt a gentle warmth on his right ankle where the feather remained pressed against him. It felt like a tight hug from a loved one. But the soldier didn't feel love, it wasn't in his programming. Still, it was a nice distraction from the pain. He closed his eyes and concentrated solely on the warmth of the golden feather hidden out of sight and thankfully not found by the handler or his men. He hoped he would remember the feather on the other side of this. When he next woke up, he hoped it would still be there. He couldn't bear the thought of losing it, this feather was his, it's all he owned to his name. And even if he technically wasn't allowed to have it, it made him feel so much better.   
And then the head piece came down. The soldier's breathing began to increase until he was hyperventilating now, the panic setting in as he struggled uselessly against his bonds. He didn't want the pain. He didn't want to forget.   
"Hold him steady!"  
"Asset! Stop fucking struggling!"  
"Prepare the charge, double it. He's going to need all we can give."  
"What the hell is wrong with him? Get him under control, NOW!"  
The voices all began to blur into one garbled mess until there was nothing but the crackle of electricity surging into his brain and the blinding pain. Distantly he heard himself scream, but it was as though he was looking down on himself from 100ft in the air.   
Through the window of the heavy double doors made of rusting metal, a single icy tear slipped down Steve's cheek.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> From the perspective of Bucko this time. 
> 
> Russian translations:
> 
> "Mission complete. Returning to base."  
> (Sorry if there's any errors, I'm a bit rusty haha.)
> 
> -Spooky


	4. Bucky.

"Bucky!" Steve bellowed, storming through the portal back into the Guardian Depot.  
The entire room fell silent as everyone's eyes landed on the furious captain. The dried tears staining his face stood out against the bright lights in the room, deep set anger burning on his features.  
"You knew the whole time it was Bucky and never said a word!" He pointed an accusing finger at Peggy, who remained calm, leaning casually at her desk. She sighed heavily and rested her gaze on the floor, crossing her legs.  
"Yes, Steven. I knew. I've been watching him for years. Decades."  
Steve could feel his eyes filling up with tears again, his nose tingling with the oncoming sobs. "Why didn't you tell me? He's dead. He died. I don't understand." He whispered softly, voice shaking with the threat of tears. Peggy slowly walked towards Steve, gently taking his trembling hands in hers, running her thumbs over the soft, faded red leather of his gloves.  
"Come with me, sweetie. We'll talk in my office. I'll tell you everything I know."  
The two walked briskly out of the depot, never letting go of each others hands and ignoring all the stares that followed them out until the door clicked shut behind them. 

Once back in the stark white confines of Peggy's room, they sat back down at the desk, just as they had when they first met again two days ago.  
The clock on the wall ticked on as they sipped their tea in dead silence. Steve wasn't even sure if he wanted an explanation at this point. He was afraid, the horror on Bucky's face was like nothing he had ever seen, Steve didn't think he would ever get his petrified scream out of his head and knowing the reason why this was happening to Bucky would break him.  
"What happened to him, Peg?" He croaked, voice hoarse from crying.  
Peggy took a breath, placing her teacup back on the saucer with a soft _clink_.  
"That's a difficult one." She sighed. "When... When sergeant Barnes fell from that train all those years ago, he somehow survived." Peggy cleared her throat before continuing. "I must confess, I don't know how. I've never found myself to be brave enough to read that far into his file."  
"Zola." Steve replied quickly, squinting his eyes. "When I rescued Bucky, he was strapped to a table, barely awake. Arnim Zola must have done something to him."  
Peggy nodded. "Most likely, since Zola was the one who found Bucky on that mountain side."  
Steve's eyes widened in horror, the cup nearly slipping from his shaking grip.  
With a click of her fingers, a file displaying Bucky's name in bold, red lettering on the front appeared in Peggy's hand. She flicked through it slowly, looking for the right page to read from.  
"I'm afraid so, Steve. Zola and his goons took Bucky's barely alive body back to a nearby base where they..." She swallowed and closed her eyes tightly. "Replaced what little remained of his left arm with an entirely mechanical one. They brainwashed him into becoming the perfect weapon for Hydra." Peggy handed the file to Steve for him to read it himself. He was nearly sick looking at the pictures and the words along side them.  
"They've been sending him off on... missions... for years. Assassinations, mainly, then wiping his mind clean and storing him in cryogenic preservation until Hydra next needed him."  
Steve couldn't believe any of this. He almost wished Bucky had just died, but didn't feel bad about that thought. He knew Bucky would rather have died that be forced to become a mindless killing machine for Hydra.  
"I have to save him." He said, fiercely, slamming the file back down on the desk.  
"It won't be easy."  
"Nothing I do ever is. He's worth it." 

Peggy took a deep breath in, looking Steve dead in the eye. "I will do everything in my power to help you. I can't make any promises, but I will do my best."  
"You always do." Steve smirked.  
The brunette stood and opened the door. "In the mean time, I'm sending you back. Keep doing your job, keep him as safe as you can. I'll talk to my higher ups and call you as soon as possible."  
With a firm nod, Steve left the office and headed back to the depot. 

 

Steve had just sat down back in his favourite arm chair with a cup of fresh coffee when there was a knock on his door. He quickly turned his head and made a grab for his shield that he had made a habit of keeping down the side of the chair, just in case of unexpected and unwanted visitors like this.  
Another, now more impatient, knock rapped on his door. He stood, shield in hand, and made his way over to the front door of his lonely apartment.  
He certainly wasn't expecting who he saw on the other side.  
"Hey there, soldier."  
"Natasha?"  
"Duh." The red head smirked, sauntering casually into his living room like she owned the place.  
"You... You can see me?" Steve gapped.  
"Again, duh. Peggy sent me. Nice wings, very you." Natasha flopped down on the sofa, flicking through her phone. She was dressed casually, black jeans with a grey hoodie and beat up baseball boots; easy enough to move around in, but Steve knew she had all kinds of deadly weapons hidden on her person.  
"You're in contact with Peggy?" Steve moved to sit back down in his chair, noticing that Natasha had stolen his coffee.  
"Yup. Did you really think she would let you run around unsupervised with no back up?"  
Steve shrugged. "How long?"  
"A few months." Natasha replied coolly, as though being in contact with angels was such a mundane thing. "She knew your time was coming up and wanted to make sure you were okay and not alone."  
Steve stood up to make himself a fresh cup of coffee. "Yeah, that sounds like her alright."  
Natasha waited until Steve had settled back down before dropping the reason why she was here. "Listen, I know about Bucky."  
Steve narrowed his eyes. "You know about Bucky?"  
She nodded. "I was investigating a potential Hydra hideout, undercover as a new recruit. I saw him, he was watching me train. Weirdly, I think he recognised me somehow." She reached into her bag and pulled out a USB stick and some papers. "I managed to grab this info on him, it's not much, kinda tight on time, but it's something. Peggy gave me this map to give to you, it's got some coordinates of where they're keeping him, his next targets, background information, that kinda crap." Steve took the papers from her hands with a grateful nod, quickly scanning his eyes over them to memorise everything.  
"I'm coming with you."  
"I'm guessing Peggy's orders?"  
"Mainly," Natasha grinned "but this is personal. For both of us."  
Steve looked at her quizzically.  
"It's a long drive to the first base on the list. I'll fill you in on the way."

When the soldier next opened his eyes, he was back on hard, metal cot.  
_'Could be worse...'_ He thought.  
He was doing a lot more of that, having thoughts. Thinking. Sitting up, he swung his legs over the side of the bed, the soft thud of his boots on the dirty linoleum floor syncing with his gentle breaths. And that's when he saw it. Another feather. He quickly checked his boot to make sure it wasn't just the one he already had had fallen out and when he discovered that no, this wasn't the same one, his heart began to pound. As he picked up the feather, he once again stroke its soft fluff just as he had with the first one. An overwhelming burn filled his head, but it was different from the burn of the electricity, so he let it happen, let it keep filling his thoughts. An image of warm, golden hair and intense, passionate blue eyes and the _"brightest smile in Brooklyn"_ flooded his mind like a blanket. As quickly at the vision came, it was. The soldier wasn't afraid, he wanted to find this person. Want was a very new feeling for him and he think he liked it. He liked that vision and the small heat the feathers gave him. He wanted more of this. Quiet as a mouse, he tucked the new feather in tight next to the first one as a small smile grew on his face. Natasha was right, it was a very long journey to the next base on her list. They drove in relative silence, Natasha at the wheel, Steve looking out of the passenger side window. He would occasionally comment on something he saw and Nat would reply or they would chat about things that happened in the week; missions, what the weather was like in what country and Thor's adventure into snack foods. "They all miss you, ya know." Natasha said quietly once the laughter had died down. "I know. I miss them all, too. Even Tony." Smirked Steve. And he really did. Despite their almost constant bickering, Tony was one of his best friends. Hell, they all were. They were a _team_. Practically family. "So tell me about Bucky." Steve said, clearing his throat. "Yeah. Well, you know my tragic backstory. I know you've read my file." Steve nodded. "There's a missing detail. I pieced it together a long time ago but it's time for you to know." Nat took a breath. "Bucky... you could say he was like a teacher. A mentor to me all those years ago, when I was just a little girl. He was tough, would push you to your limits and then keep pushing you. Not to mention strict." She smiled as though remembering a fond memory of a loved one. "But deep down, he was kind. That's one thing Hydra could never take from him. During the day, he was colder than ice. A trained killer, he didn't have emotions. But in the nights, when the new girls cried, he would bring them candy and sit with them." Steve roughly scrubbed the tears that threatened to fall. He was never much of a crier, but lately his emotions had been getting the best of him. Nat briefly took her eyes off the road to look over at Steve before continuing. "He had a soft spot for me, I think. He would push me harder than anyone else. Taught me how to shoot straight. We were told not to make friends but for most of my life? He was. He was my friend. And then you came along." She checked the map. "As soon as I saw his face in your file, I knew I had to keep an eye out on you." "Thanks, I think." They continued the drive without speaking, everything that needed to be said was out in the open now and Steve was more determined than ever to find him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry about the last two paragraphs all lumping together, I think Archive is having some issues! It's all separated nicely when I'm writing it but as soon as I publish it just becomes one long mess. I've tried to fix it but it's not having it :( -Spooky.


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